


The Sick Day

by hannibalmontanabal



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Cannibal fluff, Fluff, M/M, sick!will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:04:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalmontanabal/pseuds/hannibalmontanabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For hanni-babe, who requested a fluffy fic in which Will is sick on the job, Jack won't let him go home, and Hannibal comes to take care of him. More fluff than I knew I was capable of.<br/>Circa season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Больничный](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795533) by [Lisynok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisynok/pseuds/Lisynok)



It was just getting dark out, and already Will was inexplicably exhausted. He stood barefoot on his porch, peering out at the waning sunlight on the trees surrounding his property, and wrapped his arms around himself as he felt a chill run down his spine, sending goosebumps along his arms. He sniffled, sighed, and decided to make his way up to his bed. 

 

Rather than sleep, Will tossed and turned violently, until his blankets and bed sheets were tangled uncomfortably around his legs. With them on, he was too hot and it caused him to sweat profusely. Without the blankets, he shivered violently, though he continued to sweat either way. He groaned, getting out of bed to grab the box of tissues from the bathroom so to keep his nose from running. His throat was starting to sting. 

He stuffed a tissue into each nostril and collapsed back into bed with a cough, deciding to keep the blankets on but only up to his waist. Finally, his eyelids started to feel heavy, and he felt himself start to drift into a fitful sleep.

His dreams were surreal, and not so much like dreams as like foggy hallucinations. In one, he was on a roller coaster with Alana Bloom. She smiled at him, laughing, but the laughter that came out sounded like static. White noise. Shadows fell over her face and she transformed into something murky and black, then into nothing. Will was alone on the roller coaster and he could see a ways down that the tracks lead no where, and he was headed straight into an abyss. He started to scream, but only butterflies came out of his lips. Hannibal sat beside him now, staring at him curiously. In the seat behind them, Hobbs. 

In another dream, Will was still in bed. There was a weight on his chest and he could feel that he wasn't alone in the room. When he looked down at his chest, he realized there was nothing but blood covering his entire body, clinging with sticky heat to his skin. He looked up only to lock eyes with the stag, the only sound in the room, its breath. Then the bed seemed to fall out from under him and he gasped, waking up to see that the sun was starting to rise, and that it was sweat that clung his shirt to his skin rather than blood. He didn't feel like he had slept at all. In fact, he felt much. much worse. He staggered out of bed, pulling his blanket around himself to keep warm, and made his way downstairs to feed the dogs. Before he could get the chance, his phone started to ring. He stared at it, wondering if he should just ignore it, but decided to answer.

"Will, I need you to come down to the morgue." Jack's stern voice made Will's head pound.

"I'm not feeling very well, Jack. Can I just-"

"Come on Will, I need you to take a look at something. Hurry."

With that, Jack hung up. Will put the phone down and sniffed, putting the blanket on the couch and exchanging it for a plaid shirt. He really didn't want to go, but maybe he could be of use today. Maybe he could even save lives.

 

When he walked into the morgue, Jack and the forensics team were already there, examining a body. Jack stood with his arms crossed over his chest, frowning. Bev glanced up at Will, her expression shifting from concentration to concern. 

"You don't look so good." She said, pursing her lips. Will nodded, looking at the floor and sniffing. 

"Will, I need you to take a look at this and tell me what you think." Jack said, beckoning with his hand. 

Will tried really hard to understand what was going on around him. He asked Jack to repeat himself three times before Jack became visibly angry, but it was no use. Everything was fuzzy and grey around the edges and nothing anyone was saying made any sense. All he could really take in was that there was some new evidence found on the body and Jack seemed to think it meant something important. Will grimaced, coughed into his sleeve.

"Jack," he croaked, wincing at the throbbing pain in his skull. "I really don't feel well. I don't think I can.. I don't think.." He stumbled backwards, dizzy and unsure of his footing. Beverly was the one to grab him and hold him steady, looking up accusingly at Jack. She touched Will's forehead, her hands cold and jarring. 

"He's burning up." She muttered. 

"Well then what the hell was the point of him even coming in today?" Jack yelled, throwing his hands up. Price flinched, and Zeller looked at Will with what could only be read as contempt. 

"We should probably get him to a doctor." Bev said flatly, unfazed by Jack's out burst. 

"No." Jack said pulling out his phone. "No, we'll get a doctor to come to him." 

Within fifteen minutes, Hannibal arrived. He greeted everyone with a small smile, putting on latex gloves. He knelt in front of where Will was sitting and stroked his sweaty hair from his eyes. 

"Open." Hannibal said, and Will let him put a thermometer between his lips. After a moment, Hannibal pulled it away and looked at it. "I think I'd better take him home." 

"But I need him." Jack said, shaking his head. Will watched with dazed interest, his fever making everything seem slower.

"He's no use to you this way." Hannibal said, standing up straight. "I am driving him home."

 

In Hannibal's car, Will leaned his head against the window and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering uncontrollably. 

"Here." Hannibal said, shrugging gracefully out of his jacket and wrapping it around Will like a blanket. Will wanted to say thank you but his throat was too sore. Instead, he smiled weakly and shut his eyes, falling asleep easily.

He awoke to Hannibal lightly tapping his shoulder, and saw that they were in front of his home. Hannibal helped him walk up to the door, which really seemed unnecessary, but Will was grateful just the same. 

"Thank you Doctor." Will said, his throat aching terribly. He opened the front door and started to step inside. "I'll see you at our next appointment." 

"Now Will," Hannibal said, taking a step forward. "You're quite unwell. I think I should stay with you a while, to make sure you get better." 

Will wanted to protest, wanted to be alone to go upstairs and try to sleep, but he was too weak to argue. He shrugged and let the doctor follow him inside.

Before he could really take in what was going on around him, Hannibal had Will wrapped up in his blanket on the couch. Hannibal let him use his jacket for a pillow, seeming to not mind that it would surely get wrinkled and covered in Will's germs, and was spoon feeding him soup. Will thought the whole thing was somewhat ridiculous, but he supposed it was nice to be taken care of. He promised himself that if Hannibal ever needed him to, he would return the favor. 

"How are you feeling?" Hannibal asked. 

"Better." Will said, and it was true. 

"Good." Hannibal felt Will's forehead, seeming to check his temperature again, though his fingers lingered just a moment too long. "You seem to be cooling down. You should rest." Will nodded, and rolled onto his side. After a few moments of trying to sleep, he sighed.

"I'm so tired but I can't sleep." He groaned. 

"Would you like for me to read to you?" Hannibal suggested.

Will laughed, shaking his head 'no' for a moment, before pausing and finally answering, "yes, actually." 

Hannibal nodded and stood, seeming to consider the options available on Will's bookshelf before selecting a book on fishing lures. 

Within a few minutes, Will finally fell deeply asleep. He had no dreams, and was comforted by the swirling velvet blackness of unconsciousness. When he woke up, Hannibal was gone. Will realized this disappointed him in some way.

He stood, stretched. His throat was feeling a bit better, his headache was almost gone, and he could stand without nearly collapsing. That was a good sign, he supposed. He glanced down and saw that Hannibal had not taken his jacket with him.  
He made his way to the fridge, which was ordinarily empty, and found that Hannibal had left him with a carton of orange juice and leftover soup, as well as a note which read,

"Dear Will,

I left once your fever broke, I hope you don't mind. Please call me should you need anything at all.

Hannibal Lecter"

Will smiled, decided to keep the note in a kitchen drawer, not quite sure of why he couldn't bring himself to throw it away. 

After walking around his house for a few minutes and finding it a little too empty, he decided to pick up his phone. After a few rings, Hannibal picked up.  
"Hello Dr. Lecter. I was wondering if you wanted to.. come over again? For dinner? I don't need anything but..." His voice trailed off, and he wondered if this call was a mistake. What was he really asking for, any way? "You left your coat."

"Certainly Will. My last appointment is at seven. Shall I see you at eight?" Will cleared his throat, nodding to himself.

"Yeah, eight is good. You're cooking though." Will said. Hannibal laughed in response, but agreed, and Will started to feel much better.


End file.
